


These Battlescars

by h0tbl00ded



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Post s3 angst, TW : PTSD, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:01:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0tbl00ded/pseuds/h0tbl00ded
Summary: Post season three, Billy has head wounds and self consciousness about his ears. Steve wants to know what's up.





	1. Don't make me get feelings dude

**Author's Note:**

> For Jai! Hope you like it

Soft sheets, but not too soft. Like whoever bought them wanted the pretense of comfort, but didn't want to pay for it. Too many pillows. His neck was killing him. Not enough blankets. An a smell… Like antiseptic. Billy opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it, everything was too bright. Not to mention a dull pain in the back of his head. Turning his head to the side, he tried again, opening his eyes just a slit, enough to see Max, asleep in the chair next to his bed. So he's in a hospital. Why is he in a hospital? His eyes widen, and he hissed as he remembered what happened. The giant, nasty, awful, flesh thing, losing control of his own mind, seeing himself in that dark place. That one girl, crying, reminding him of his mother. It's much clearer from that moment on forward in his memories, and it's painful. He takes a deep breath, shoving the memories away, for now at least. If he was being honest, he'd almost forgotten that day at the beach. Now, he was going to cling to that memory with everything he had. 

He stiffens when Max wakes up, and she almost looks happy for a second. Then, something like pity overtakes her face, and Billy glares at her. "Don't… give me that… shit." his throat was so, so sore, and his voice was even rougher than before. But there was no fucking way he was going to let her look at him like that. 

"Oh shut up, Billy, you don't… You don't know what-" 

"- What happened… to me? I do, actually. Got… possessed, or some shit, then I… died. I thought." subconsciously, he ran his fingers over his chest, sure enough, he was sore in several spots where the flesh monster had impaled him. 

Max sighed, obviously agitated. "You hit your head when you fell, dumbass. Cracked your skull, you were in a coma for a few weeks, they… They had to shave your head." 

No fucking way. It couldn't be gone. His hands ran over his scalp, and sure enough, fingers touched soft stubble, and various bandages covering his head. Anger swelled in his chest, but instead of taking it out on Max, he just. Sighed. Leaned back. And turned away from her, ashamed. 

A few days later, he was discharged, and when offered clothing from the lost and found, he opted for a hoodie, rather than another jean jacket. His face was dark as he stood in front of a mirror, alone in the bathroom. His eyes were shadowed, sunken in, and he was paler than he was before. Tearing his eyes away from his reflection, he grabbed shaving cream and a razor, setting to work on his scruff that had formed while he'd been asleep - in a coma. Swipe, rinse, swipe, rinse. The cold water felt good on his face, and honestly it was the best thing he's felt since he woke up. Leaning on the sink, he gazed at himself again. Honestly, he still looked good. Just in a different way. Except… his face grew red as he stared at his ears. His goddamn ears that stuck out so much, the reason why he grew his hair so long in the first place. Snarling, he grabbed the dark blue hoodie, and pulled it over his head, making sure the hood covered his ears, and the various wounds on his head. He looked like he would hang out with the Byers creep, but at least he was covered. At least he wouldn't get called fucking Dumbo or something equally as shitty. 

He'd refused to get a ride home. No, after this, he was never going back to that fucking house. He's eighteen. He's an adult. Technically. Neil had been pissed, of course, but Billy had made damn sure they were in a very public place when they had the argument, so he was proud of himself for that. He knew Max would be safe, Neil never goes after her. Susan however… Well, fuck Susan. 

Now, he was walking the streets of Hawkins, and he got a strange satisfaction from the realization that people didn't recognize him. He had a destination in mind, Denny's. He was fucking hungry, and he figured the twenty he'd nabbed from Max would be enough to pay for lunch. 

That is, until he was so lost in his thoughts, he nearly ran Steve Harrington over. "Shit, sorry…" he mumbled, ducking his head, hoping his former team mate wouldn't recognize him either. But, luck was not in his favor today. Harrington's doe eyes widened, and as soon as Billy brushed past him, he caught up, grabbing his shoulder. 

"Billy! You're out! Max had said you'd be released soon, but she didn't say when… Are you okay?" Billy looked up at him, expecting the same look Max had given him, but instead, it was sympathy. And curiosity. Like that's any better. 

"Yeah. I'm fine." His response clipped, and short, wanting this to end. The sooner the better, honestly. Knowing Harrington, he'd want to know why Billy was hiding his face so much. 

"Were you going to Denny's? Cause, I mean, I'm starving, and I'll even pay…" Steve's tone was pleading, the hand on his shoulder almost reassuring. Fuck. Free food was his weakness. 

Billy sighed, finally meeting Harrington's eyes. "You've got a deal, then." the walk to the diner was easy enough, and so was ordering the food. It was all small talk, half hearted jokes, and being cordial for the sake of other people around them. But then they were left alone, the silence and tension between them so thick you could cut it with a fucking knife. Billy could tell Steve wanted to ask about his head. He kept looking at it, and his fingers kept fidgeting. His mouth opened once, then he shut it, a question expression upon his face, and when Billy looked down at his hands, a finger was pointing at his head. 

He went on the defense, eyes narrowing, lip curling. "Got something to say?" he was glad he had the hood on, the shadow should be hiding his inflamed cheeks. 

"I just. I've never seen you wearing a hoodie before."

"So? I like them. Problem with that?"

Steve shook his head, hands up in a placating manner. "No, I, no. Look, if you need a place to stay - just until you can find one on your own - my parents are never home, so if you want…" 

Billy was quiet for a moment. Why was he being so nice to him? Billy had beat the shit out of him, bullied him, and generally tried to make his life hell. Oh. Billy knows the answer. Fucking pity, again. Not like beggars can be choosers, though, and Billy was definitely a beggar right now, in his current situation. Finally, he sniffed, and nodded. "Thanks, Harring- Steve." the least he could do was call him by his fucking name. 

The smile that appeared on Steve's face reminded Billy of a puppy, and he almost felt bad for assuming it was pity that was the motivating factor behind his kindness. "Of course! Just, no smoking in the house, or when my parents do some home, they'll kill me."

That elicited a chuckle from Billy. After everything that happened, nearly dying, being possessed, feeling awful about himself, hearing Steve being worried about being grounded was… It was ordinary. It was nice. And it made him smile. He was also grateful that Steve had dropped the subject of his head. 

But he wasn't stupid. He knew it was going to come up again, eventually.


	2. This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn insecurity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Steve have been living together, and as it turns out, neither is as bad as the other thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU to Mona you're wonderful and awesome

So, by an unexpected turn of events, Billy’s staying at Steve’s house and had been for the past week. According to Max, everyone at school was talking about it. It was nice, actually--Billy got a room of his own, and Steve knocked and actually waited for Billy to answer before coming in. The food was good, it was peaceful in the house. He still wore the hoodie constantly, though. And Billy could tell Steve wanted to know why. The unsubtle side glances at Billy. The slight tip of his head that Steve did when he got curious. And that’s the thing, Billy’s starting to notice things about his housemate--body language, how to tell whether he’s in a good mood or bad, if he needs to eat, if Billy needs to pick him up and carry him to his bedroom again, all of that. It happened surprisingly quickly. He pretends it doesn’t have root in his paranoia, his fear of overt niceness from people he doesn’t deserve it from, pretends like he’s just happened to notice Steve’s antics instead of the way he spends more time than not analyzing him. It was strange, how quickly they got used to each other, and how quickly they got over their past bullshit. It still feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The absolute best part, though, is how fucking nice Steve is to him. Billy had spilled spaghetti sauce all over the hoodie he’d gotten from the hospital, and he’d sulked for the rest of the night. Another layer of defense torn down, and Billy knows he shouldn’t be upset, it’s a fucking hoodie for godssake, but he’d grown unhealthily attached to it, to the anonymity it brought. The next morning, he’d woken to a small pile of generic hoodies on the kitchen table, topped with a note that read: I don't know what size you are. These might be a little big but I hope you like them. Also, oatmeal is in the cupboard, be home at six. - King Steve.

Yeah, he refers to himself as King Steve, now.

Billy just stood there for a moment, the note loose in his hand, jaw open at the unprovoked act of kindness. Without a second thought, he stripped the stained hoodie off there in the kitchen and pulled on a red one, and yeah, it was a little big, but it was comfortable. Billy smiled as he took the pile into his room, tucking the note in the pocket of his jeans.

That night, as soon as Steve came home and saw Billy wearing one of the hoodies he’d gotten for him, the biggest smile broke out on his face, and he felt a warmth inside his chest, because, fuck, he did that. He caused that. And that’s awesome. “Thanks for these, Steve. Really.” Billy did his very best to return the smile, trying to show his appreciation.

“No problem, man,” Steve replied, grin still on his face. “And, uh, I talked to my manager, and there’s a job at the video store, if you want it. You obviously can’t have your hood up on the job though, so I got-” He pulled a beanie out of his pocket, handing it to Billy. “-A hat! And since, well,” he bit his lip, and his brow furrowed. “Since you don’t seem too keen on sharing what’s wrong, I got one that covers everything, ears, back of your neck. Here.”

Billy took it from him, refusing to meet his eyes as he did. He knew that he could, in theory, open up to Steve about his insecurity, and he wouldn’t be judged. But there was that nagging little what if, that kept him from doing so. But maybe if he showed a sign of trust… Billy slowly pulled his hood off, swallowing, waiting for a comment. Nothing came. So he pulled the beanie on, tugging it down over his ears. Only then did he meet Steve’s eyes. “Well? How’s it look?”

Billy could see the shock on Steve’s face. He wasn’t expecting that. Good. Still, he stepped closer to Billy, adjusting the hat a little. “It’s a little crooked, but… You look good. Less like a creep.”

He laughed at that, ducking his head, and closing his eyes. It’s the first real, heartfelt laugh he’s had since he woke up. Guess that’s just what Steve does. “Thanks. I think. And, yeah, I’ll take the job. What is it, like a bodyguard?”

“What? No, it’s a video store, you’ll just be, you know, like scanning movies, helping people find what they want. Though I gotta warn you, it gets awkward when people check out porn.” Steve shuddered, apparently at recent memories, but he quickly changed course, nodding to the kitchen. “Anyways, I’m glad you’re taking the job. I mean, anything to get you out of here.” A light punch to the shoulder reassured Billy that he was kidding. “You’re eating all the food.”

“Please, I’m the best roommate you could ask for. I don’t bring anyone over, I’m quiet-”

“-You spent an entire night in the sauna!”

“I like the bubbles!” Billy crossed his arms in mock-defense, sticking his nose up in the air. “Besides, you never use it.”

“It’s too hot for me.”

“You know you can adjust the temperature, right? Please tell me I don’t know more about your house than you do.”

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. “Uh. Hey, you want nachos for dinner? I think we have everything, but tomorrow, we’re going grocery shopping, okay?”

“Way to change the subject. Wait, what do you mean we’re? I don’t do shopping.” Billy raised an eyebrow as he followed Steve into the kitchen.

“You’re coming with me, okay? And before you get all macho on me, shut up. One, you need to get out more. Two, you’ll be there to stop me from buying things we don’t need. Because,” Steve licked his bottom lip, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “Last time I went shopping by myself, I bought a giant bag of Peeps. Like, a hundred of them.”

“So?”

“I hate Peeps.”

Billy snorted, sitting at the counter while Steve begins to make dinner for them. “So… make a list?” This was rewarded by a glare, and he held his hands up in submission. “Jesus, okay, fine, I’ll come with you.” So that was going to be fun. Go shopping with Steve tomorrow, start at the video store the next day. What the fuck was his life now? Not that he was complaining, no, definitely not. Hell, he’s never felt more comfortable and at peace than he’s been in the past week. Before, he’d either be sulking in his room, or going out on dates--now he was doing movie nights, prank calling Hopper, dancing awfully to equally as awful music, he was having fun. He wasn’t the same as before, not completely.

“You alright?”

Billy looked up at Steve, shrugging. “Yeah, why?”

“Dunno, you just had a weird look on your face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was happiness.”

Billy scoffed at him, but as soon as his back was turned, Billy’s face turned a dark shade of red. Looking at his hands, he calmed himself before speaking again. “Oh, you know. Free food makes anyone happy.”

Steve put the finishing touches on the giant plate, and slid it in front of Bily, joining him in sitting at the counter. “Billy. You know you can-”

“- I know. Steve, I know. You’re. Heh.” Billy ran a hand over his head, looking at Steve, looking at his doe eyes, his concerned expression - yeah that’s right. Concern. Not pity. The way you can tell he wants to help, to talk. That’s the thing about Steve. He thinks he’s useless, and Billy hates that. “You’ve gotta be the nicest guy on the planet, okay? I. I fucking appreciate everything you’ve done, letting me stay, the job, the food, fuck, even, shit, becoming my friend, after the hell I put you through.” Shit. Were they friends? Too late to take it back now. “Thank you, okay? But. There’s some shit I ain’t ready to talk about.” Billy swallowed down a lump that had formed in his throat, but he kept Steve’s gaze.

“So we’re friends?” And that hopeful tone nearly killed Billy on the spot.

“I sure fucking hope so, otherwise this is gonna get awkward.”

Steve laughed, and it started with just a little chuckle, a scrunch of his nose. Then he was giggling like an idiot, holding his stomach as Billy grabbed a nacho, watching in amusement. “Yeah. After that, We’re definitely friends. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that the great Billy Hargrove occasionally has and expresses feelings.”

“Good. Cause if you did I’d have to kill you.” He flicked an olive at Steve, who then picked it up off the floor, and ate it.

“Ew.”

“What, five second rule!”

Billy sighed, snickering as he leaned back in his chair.

The next morning, he woke up to an alarm that he immediately threw across the room. It still kept buzzing. With a grumble, he pulled himself out of bed, pulling jeans on as he made his way across the room, and he finally turned it off.

He heard running, and his door opened to reveal Steve with wide eyes, breathing a little heavily. “I heard a crash! Are you okay?”

“Uhh… Yeah. Threw the clock.” He held it up awkwardly, hyper aware of the fact that he was half dressed, his still healing injuries in full view. Billy, having known first aid, was allowed to change most of the bandages himself, but the ones on his back were still the original ones. Which, he knows is awful, and gross, and bad, but how do you bring that up? Oh, hey, Steve, mind playing around with my blood for a few minutes cause I got fucking impaled several times and I can’t reach my back?

Yeah, right.

“O-oh. Wow. I mean, uh, I’ll go now.” Steve’s gaze practically burned Billy, but he set the clock down, and shook his head.

“I, uh. Could actually use your help. With this. If you want.”

“What, your bandages?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if-”

“I’m helping. What do I need to do?”

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the bathroom with first aid supplies scattered everywhere, Billy showing him how he does the ones on his chest. “They’re stitched, so there shouldn’t be that much blood, but sometimes the gauze will rip off the dried blood and they’ll be some - yeah, like that.” Billy hissed as a small trickle of blood ran down his chest , and he quickly pressed gauze to the wound, taping it down. He reached for the cotton pad, but Steve beat him to it, carefully wiping away the stream, making sure he didn’t get blood on his jeans. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Alright, my turn.” Steve turned Billy around, and it was just now that Billy realised he wasn’t wearing his hat, and his ears were in full view. Steve must have seen the pained expression upon his face in the mirror, cause he smiled, and shook his head. “Stop. It doesn’t bother me. The scars on your head. They’re actually pretty gnarly looking. In a good way, I mean.”

Billy would have laughed if he didn’t have to stay so still. Steve thought he was worried about that. “It’s not the - nevermind.” Billy shook his head, ignoring Steve’s fucking head tilt, staying still for the next half hour it took for him to change the bandages. He did a pretty good job, he had to admit.

After that, Steve headed downstairs to make breakfast, and Billy got dressed, pulling on a Foreigner t-shirt, and a black hoodie, adding the beanie for good measure. Just in case. His boots finished the look off, and he tiptoed down the stairs quietly. Because strangely, Billy likes to watch him cook. He’s focused, tongue between his teeth, he’s usually got something on his face, flour, yogurt; today it was pancake mix, and he wears this fucking apron that Billy assumes is his father’s because there’s something about being a grill master on it. He leans against the wall, watching Steve flip the pancakes, and - ooh, were those chocolate chips? His stomach growled loudly, giving him away. Fuck.

“Hey, can you pull the syrup out for me? I’m almost done.” His obliviousness was almost painful.

Billy nodded, grabbing the real maple syrup, not the fucking Mrs. Buttersworth bullshit that most people like. “Here, you got - hold on.” Billy uses the sleeve of his hoodie, carefully wiping Steve’s nose and chin off, showing him the white powder.

“Oh, thanks, uh, here’s your plate.” Steve handed him a short stack of steaming pancakes, a goofy smile upon his face. "Be there in a sec."

He made his way into the dining room, grabbing a seat, and pulling out napkins for both of them. Once he got comfortable, he dug in, not bothering to wait for Steve, though he did show up not long after.

"So, I made a list. Kind of." Steve sat across from him, handing him a piece of notepaper. Billy read it, and immediately scoffed.

"This just says the food groups on it, dude. Meat, veggies, fruit, cmon, you gotta get more specific than that. Alright, here, gimme your pen." A little while later, they had a list, a real list, and full bellies. "Worst case scenario, I mean we can just get a bunch of microwave dinners and-"

"Absolutely not!" Steve shook his head, shutting the door behind them, as they head outside, and to his car. He stood outside of the divers door, then he stopped, looking up at Billy, keys in his hand. "Do you…want to drive?"

Billy looked between the car and him, and he nodded, switching sides, grabbing the keys from him. "I asked about my Camaro, apparently they found her, and Neil decided to just sell her for her parts." His tone wasn't angry, but it was bitter. He missed her. Her smell. The sound of her engine, the way it felt slamming the pedal to the metal and flying down the road. Climbing in, he readjusted the seat, then he turned the engine on, smiling when it purred to life. Before he took off, though, he gave Steve a questioning look, asking for permission.

"What are you - oh. Go ahead. You look like you need it."

At that, Billy tore out of the driveway, and sped down the road. He turned the radio on, grinning widely when 'Cum on feel the Noize' started blaring from the speakers. Pressing down on the gas, he thumped the steering wheel to the beat, nodding his head. He turned his head to Steve when the chorus came on, and they both chimed in at the same time.

"Come feel the noise! Girls, rock your boys! We'll get wild, wild, wild! Wild, wild, wild!" the rest of the drive to the store - which was fairly short considering how fast Billy was driving - was spent screaming the rest of the song, getting so into it, that the car may have swerved several times. He pulled into the parking lot with a wide grin on his face, Steve with messy hair.

"Got the list? I'll grab a cart." Billy locked up, and darted to a shopping cart return, wheeling one over to Steve. "You push it, I'll grab the food."

Their trip went mostly without incident. That is, until they turned a corner, and there's Tommy H., rifling through the ice cream trunk. "Oh, hey, Steve, haven't seen you since you started hanging out with those losers! Who's this guy?" his ridiculously freckled face scrutinized Billy, and it took him a minute to figure out who he was. "Holy shit… Billy, my dude!" he broke out into a grin, clapping his shoulder. He missed the flinch that occurred because of it, end went on, rambling. "What're you doing hanging out with this guy, Hargrove? And whoa, what's with the hat, lemme see-" he reached toward Billy's head, and his fingers just caught the edge of the beanie, when Billy jerked back, and cracked him in the jaw, sending him to the ground. Steve stepped in front of Billy, a hand coming up to his chest.

" Whoa, whoa Billy, easy. Easy." Steve met his eyes, trying to get him to calm down. It was obvious how pissed off Billy was, his hands shaking, eyes cold, breathing heavily. "Back off, okay. Go get in the car. I'll handle this. Go." Steve pushed on his chest, just like he did back then, but this time it was to protect him, not someone else.

He huffed, but he did what Steve asked, giving Tommy one last glare, before heading out to the car. By the time Steve came back with the groceries, he'd calmed down somewhat, until he finally saw Steve's face. Blood was trickling from his eyebrow, a black eye was forming, and he had a split lip. The anger came rushing back twice as fast, and Billy's face turned into a mask of hate. "What the fuck did he do to you?!"

Steve shook his head, licking his lip. "Billy, it's fine, I-"

"I'm going to fucking kill him. He's dead!"

"Billy!"

"What?!"

"You know I can actually fight, right?! I broke his nose, he just. Got a few lucky hits in, is all." Steve looked away from Billy, but he wasn't having that.

"Look at me, Steve… Why would you do that? Why would you… Steve…" Billy trailed off one Steve turned back to face him.

"Billy. Look. I just got my ass kicked for you, okay? So just… Can we go home?"

"But-"

"You don't want to talk about whatever the hell is bothering you, I don't want to fucking talk about this, okay? Clean me up when we get home, and we'll call it good."

He nodded, keeping his mouth shut, and putting the car into gear. The ride was silent, both of them stewing in their own problems, until suddenly, Billy pulled over, slamming down on the brakes, his face furious as he turns to Steve again.

"Dude, what-"

"You wanna know? You wanna fucking know why I hide my head, my face so much? You wanna know why I clocked Tommy for trying to take my fucking hat off, huh?" he pulled his hat off, his cheeks turning red.

"Billy… Your scars, I get it, you don't have to spell it out for me-"

"My ears."

"What?"

"My fucking ears, Steve. That's why I grew my hair out."

"What about them? They don't… I don't understand." Steve gazed over Billy's face, confusion evident.

Billy sighed, closing his eyes. This was a mistake. But it was too late now. "They're fuckin… huge. They stick out, a lot. I just…I don't like them." the more he spoke, the redder his face got. It was too much, he had to look away from the goddamn doe eyes that were staring at him.

Steve was quiet for several minutes, and the next time he spoke, he started with a laugh. "So, you're telling me I just got punched by one of my ex-best friends, because you're embarrassed about your ears? Billy, look, look at me."

He did, blue eyes filled with shame and embarrassment. "What?"

"They don't stick out. They really don't. I mean, you remember Nelson, right?"

"Yeah, he was Mr. Howard's bitch."

"Yeah! His ears fucking stuck out. Yours, they really don't."

Billy huffed, and he went to put his beanie back on, but Steve stopped him.

"Don't. Please. Wear it whenever you want, but when it's just you and me…please don't."

Billy bit his lip, and he tucked it away in a pocket. "Fine. So what's up with you? Why'd you, you know. Break Tommy's nose?"

"I. I don't know. I saw he hurt you, I yelled at him, he yelled back, and I just snapped, I guess."

Billy smiled, because. Steve Harrington fought someone for him. For him! Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. "Guess you care about me, huh, King Steve?"

"Oh, shut up."


	3. This is Halloween, this is Trauma - ween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idek man I haven't read it since October so fuckin yeet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always in these matters, for jai

Before Billy knew it, it was Halloween, and both of the guys had the day off of work from the video store. "Check this out, got some movies for us." Tonight was going to be a movie night, filled with popcorn, hot cocoa, and horror. Billy held out the movies to Steve for inspection, pulling his beanie off as he walked into their house. Their house? No, it was Steve's house. And yet… 

"So, uh, there's Gremlins, Halloween, obviously, Friday the thirteenth, and finally; Nightmare on Elm Street." Billy grinned wickedly, he'd always loved horror movies, being scared, feeling like there was something else there… It was such a fun thrill. Because at the end of the day, none of that shit was real, nothing like that existed. Well, sure, the Nightstalker was out there, but. He's on the west coast. It's fine. He's pretty sure Steve doesn't read the newspapers. 

"Did you have to get so many… Scary ones?" Steve gave him a look as he hung his coat up, kind of a puppy dog look, that usually meant he wanted something, or rather, he didn't want something. 

Billy raised an eyebrow, setting them down on the counter. "What, you scared, Princess?" 

"No! No, I'm not scared, it's just. Can we start with Gremlins? And don't call me Princess." 

"No, Steve, cmon… Start with the scary ones, wind down to the ones that make you laugh, that way," Billy flicked his friend's nose. "You don't get nightmares. Princess." 

He huffed, scrunching up his nose, and batting Billy away. "Fine. I'll get the food and stuff ready, you get the movie in. Rude." he grumbled, walking into the kitchen.

Billy grinned, watching Steve walk away. Smug with himself, he pulled out extra blankets and pillows, tossing them onto the couch as he turned the VHS player on. Popping Nightmare on Elm Street in, he turned all of the lights down, much to Steve's disgruntlement. He flops down on the couch, eyes following Steve as he walked back in with popcorn and cocoa, handing Billy a mug as he sat down opposite him, snuggling under a blanket. 

It was fine at first, before people started getting murdered. Once Freddie showed up, though, Steve was hiding his face behind a pillow. A jumpscare later, and he flinched, hiding his face in Billy's shoulder. "I don't know how you like this stuff…" he mumbled. 

Billy froze too, but for an entirely different reason. His cheek was so warm against his shoulder, his dark hair falling in his face, hiding those doe eyes… he put an arm around Steve, rubbing his back. "Hey, it's okay. It's prosthetics. Besides, Jason cuts this dudes head off in another movie anyways." 

“He does?”

“Hell yeah, it’s awesome.” Billy decided against mentioning that Freddie’s eyes had opened in the last scene, and it was probably for the best. Letting out a content sigh, he relaxed into Steve, letting him kind of, half hug him. There wasn’t anyone else around, he didn’t care. All the bullshit he usually had about getting touchy with guys was gone. 

Tilting his head to the side as Johnny Depp came on screen, he smirked as he remembered this guy’s death. Gets sucked through the couch. Sure enough, Freddie’s hand comes through the bed, and pulls him under, and suddenly, Billy freezes. He’s not watching the movie anymore, he’s watching memories play out in his head, holding the flesh monster back, only for long tendrils to come out, and impale him in the chest, over and over. The pain that hurt so much, but it was so dull at the same time, he remembers choking on his own blood, or rather, all of the chemicals that he’d drank, the hot, black sticky mess pouring out of his mouth, Max screaming, and the final one, right through the heart, that seemed to burn and burn and burn and burn- 

“Billy!” Steve sat up, and he’s turning Billy’s face towards him. “Billy, snap out of it, dude! C’mon, you’re scaring me!”

And like that, the memories were gone, though he had a lingering pain in his chest, and a fading taste of burnt plastic in his mouth. “What? I’m fine. Just. Scarier than I remembered, I guess.” His heart’s pounding in ihs chest, and he’s sure that’s what gave him away, but he’s not ready to talk about that night. Not yet. 

“You… you got scary for a minute, man, real scary. I mean, your heart, i just, it got really fast, and then your face…” Steve swallowed, and Billy met his brown eyes that were clearly still looking for signs of something wrong. 

“Steve. I’m good. Just. Reminded me of, you know.” He gestured to his chest, hoping he’d get it.

He nodded, his face still filled with worry. “And you don’t wanna talk about it, right?”

“Absolutely not. But… uh… can we watch Gremlins, now? No one gets. You know.”

“Sure, Billy.” Was that relief in his voice? Damn. Billy wondered what for, the fact that they weren’t gonna watch slashers anymore, or the fact that Billy opened up, just a crack. Probably the movies. 

So, they changed it over, and they turned the lights on. When Steve came back to the couch, he sat right next to Billy, leaning his head on his shoulder. It was this small act of comfort, you know, he’s not pressing Billy, he’s not giving him a hug or anything overly, like, gay, he’s just there, and it’s this that gets Billy every. Fucking. TIme. Fuck.

And whoa, he smells good. Billy frowns at the unexpected thought, and he bats it away for now, though he’s going to seriously overthink that one later. 

This movie goes without issue, there’s laughter, they finish the popcorn and the cocoa, and once it’s over they both make groaning noises. “Aw man… Well, what do you wanna do now, Billy?”  
“Hmm… Kinda wanna get in the hottub.” Now he can get in all the way, since the majority of his wounds don't require bandages anymore. Sure, they’re still big and scabby, but he doesn’t need to fear his organs falling out anymore. 

Steve rolled his eyes, chucking a pillow at him. “Of course you do. It’s freezing outside!”

“Hence why we’ll be in the hottub… C'mon, Steve, you know you want to…” Billy turned up the whiny attitude, even sticking his bottom lip out, and doing his best to put on puppy dog eyes. 

He sighed, shaking his head. “Fine… Fine, okay okay, let’s go!” 

Billy laughed, getting up from the couch, and tossing the blanket at Steve. They made their way outside, Billy already stripping, a hoodie in the hallway, his shirt on the deck, and finally his jeans on the ground. He turned on the jets, and climbed in a little too quickly, almost slipping and falling, but once he was seated, he sighed contently, turning his head to look at Steve. “What are you waiting for, get your ass in here!”

Steve huffed, stripping off, but folding his close in a neat pile by the hot tub, wincing with each step as he walked in. "It's so hot, dude, I'm being boiled alive."

"Stop bitching, it's nice…"

"Until we have to get out."

"Shit. You're right."

But Billy laughed anyways, leaning back and extending his arms over the side of the tub, closing his eyes, and slowly kicking his feet. This was nice. The lights from the pool was the only reason Billy could see Steve, the air smelled like, like, happiness, and he could hear kids from the street, talking, laughing, screaming. Fucking perfect. 

"How's your head?" 

Billy grunted, opening his eyes, and running his fingers over the gash in his scalp. "Feels fine, I guess. I get the stitches out next week, it's not like I can see it, though." 

"Here, lemme see." Steve moved closer to him, turning Billy's head to the side. Billy didn't really know what he was doing, all he felt was light fingers along the wound. "Looks good, it's definitely healing, and it's not red at all." he flicked Billy's ear, and resumed his former position, the tips of his hair wet. 

"Yeah, kinda itches. Figured that's what it meant." Billy fell silent after that, the white noise of the jets coaxing him into getting lost in his own thoughts. He was thinking about Starcourt, kind of. Not so much what actually happened, but more of how it felt. A vague grimace crossed his face, and a hand came up to his heart, the final blow. He was going to have some massive fucking scars, there was no doubt about it. One hell of an interesting story though, not like anyone would believe him. "You were really brave, you know." 

"What?" 

"During, you know. The whole thing. I remember… You threw fireworks at that thing, right? Badass, man."

"Oh! I… Uh. Thanks. But I mean, between the two of us you definitely, were. Braver." was his face turning red, or was it the heat off of the water? 

"Please, I was half out of my mind." Billy sighed, turning his head toward Steve. "You're braver, smarter and better than people think, hell, even you think you are. You don't fucking see that, and it just. Kills me, dude." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, I don't…" 

"I heard you all the time in school… Bitching cause of shitty grades, or you thought you were too stupid to graduate, or you'd backed out of a fight, or whatever. I heard it. And I heard you today in the back."

Earlier, at the video store, Billy had been manning the counter while Robin and Steve were in the back, checking inventory. He'd heard Steve curse cause he'd checked the same movie three times, and he'd heard him call himself the biggest idiot on the planet. Sure, he wasn't the most observant kid around, but he wasn't stupid. 

"So just. If you need help, fucking ask, okay? I won't be a condescending asshole, trust me, I got enough of that, I know what that's like."

Steve was quiet for a moment, staring at the water, playing with the bubbles. "My dad… He says I'm not good enough, all the time. Not good enough to get a job at his company, hell, he even got drunk one night and, and do you know what he said?" 

"That you weren't good enough to be his son?" 

Steve's head jerked up, his dark eyes wet with tears. "You too?" 

"Yeah. Duh, you know what my dad… Shit, you don't, do you?" Everybody knew who Steve's dad was. The biggest businessman in town, loves his car more than he loves anything else. Nobody but Billy, Max, and Susan knew what Neil was like. "Let's just say I get it, okay? I'm sorry you have a dad like that. It's not fucking fair. You deserve someone who cares about you, who's there for you." Billy cleared his throat, swallowing a lump in his throat. 

"We both, we both do." there was a tremble in Steve's voice, and after meeting Billy's eyes for a minute, he changed the subject, pulling a small baggie out of his jeans pocket. "You smoke?" 

"All the time." Billy watched hungrily, wiping his eyes as Steve lit up, flicking the lighter a few times, then taking a drag, holding the smoke in, and passing the joint to Billy. "Didn't realise you did, apparently."

"Yeah. Gotta do something besides jack off in my spare time." he exhaled with a laugh, flicking some water at Billy. 

He just shook his head, inhaling, relishing the slight burn in his lungs, and with a grin, he blew the smoke in Steve's face. "Cmere, wanna try something."

So Steve scooted over, clearly still soaking in his emotions, but his did what Billy asked anyways, rubbing his eyes, and frowning at Billy. "So what are you gonna do?" 

Billy held up a finger, taking a deep breath of smoke, and he made a 'come hither' gesture with his finger, bringing their faces close together, close enough that Billy could count every spot on Steve's face, and he was sure Steve could see all of his freckles. A thumb grazed his bottom lip, and Steve opened, whether is was because he figured out what was going on, or he was just surprised. Billy leaned even further in, and exhaled into Steve's mouth, watching him inhale through half lidded eyes. He lingered there longer then he perhaps should have, but as he pulled away, he winked, handing the joint back to Steve. "Shotgun. Haven't met a girl yet who would let me, so."

"It was uh… Gimme a second, I need to get my brain cells back." Steve laughed, nudging Billy's knee with his own under the water. "That was pretty fucking smooth, not gonna lie."

"It's what I do best, Princess." 

They spent about a half hour in there, eventually climbing out, realising that was a really bad idea, and running into the house, cursing the entire way inside, dripping wet and getting water everywhere. 

"Stay here, I'll get towels!" Steve laughed, darting into the hallway, and coming back with the soft towels, tossing one at Billy. He took it gladly, wrapping it around himself, his teeth chattering as he watched Steve dry himself off, thoroughly rubbing his hair down, then moving on to his chest and arms. Billy honestly couldn't help himself, watching Steve. He was high, and that shit was mesmerizing. His normally blown out hair was wet, and clinging to his head, falling in his face, and framing his eyes. Drops of water fell down his skin, pale skin that was absolutely covered in spots. "Billy? You're spacing out again…"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Just, uh, thinking about, you know, stuff." Yeah. Stuff. Like how badly he wanted to push his hair to the side, back him up against the wall, and - "I'm gonna get in the shower, okay?" 

"Alright. I think I'm gonna head to bed, I'm pretty… Pretty wiped." Steve offered Billy a smile, before turning to head upstairs. "Night, Billy."

"Night, Steve." 

Billy watched him walk away, and made his way into the Harrington's massive shower, taking his boxers off, and turning the hot water on. He'd always liked his showers hot. Now that his skin is riddled with nerve damage, he takes them even hotter, just to feel the warmth. Stepping under the spray, his mind is still fuzzy, still thrumming, and he starts to think about what had almost happened. There's no way he actually finds Steve attractive, right? That'd be… Fucking gay. It's probably just the weed. Probably. Hopefully. 

Billy sighed, tilting his face up into the water, closing his eyes, and shaking what hair he had out. Opening his eyes once more, he looked down at his hands, turning them over, looking at the fading bruises and scratches. He'd shoved his hands right into one of that things mouths, and it had clenched and fought him, dragging several of its teeth along his skin. That hurt, it really hurt, a sharp pain that makes you see white. 

Steve smells like flowers. Billy vaguely wonders why he smells like that. Maybe it was a shampoo. 

Dude! Gay! Stop! 

A soft thump, that was Billy's head against the shower wall. He needs to sleep. He washed his hair carefully, making sure to avoid the wound on the back of his skull, then he moved to the face, and finally the body, grabbing some generic soap, rather than the special ooh la la sandalwood crap in the fancy bottle. Finally, he finished off, wrapping a towel around his waist, and heading up to his room. 

Once there, he flopped on his bed, with an almighty sigh. There was a lot going on in his head, Starcourt, his self consciousness about his ears still occasionally reared its head, Steve, goddamn it, fucking Steve. So, sure. He liked the guy. He was nice, he got Billy, like, really, really got Billy. Which he valued more than anything. Billy was comfortable around him. He could be himself, the real Billy, not the asshole facade that he put up around everyone else. Steve didn't judge him, because when it came down to it, Steve was just as flawed as Billy was. 

There's a comparison that Billy read in a book once, one person had a bunch of father - shaped holes jabbed into them, and the other had thorns, thorns from their past, and they fit together perfectly. Sure, the book was about a psycho, but. He liked the sentiment. Anyways, he kinda gets those vibes from Steve and himself. Steve's got holes, Billy's got thorns. 

He turned over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He really needs to stop thinking. He can't help it, though. He's done it every night since his mom left, thinking about the day, what he said, what others said around him, what he could have done better, fights he won and arguments he'd lost. It'd gotten simultaneously worse and better once he moved in with Steve. Better, because he wasn't making a list of what pissed Neil off, he wasn't having nightmares of Neil coming in his room and hurting him. Worse, because now he was overthinking every little thing Steve said to him. 

Like, in the hot tub. Shotgunning him. His reaction. Was that from the smoke, or the close proximity to Billy? And all the times his face has gone red? What was that? 

Billy groans, fairly loudly, and he's sure Steve heard him. Whatever, he'll just assume he was jacking off or something. Maybe he'll come in - 

Okay, that's definitely the weed talking. There's no way Billy would be into that. Right? Jeez. 

He really needs to sleep. He has to go to work tomorrow. 

Fuck. This was going to be a long night.


End file.
